


That Spring Before Marlas

by Spiritheart



Series: Queen in Play [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Developing those devastating skills, F/M, M/M, Other, POV Laurent (Captive Prince), So many bro moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-01-24 04:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiritheart/pseuds/Spiritheart
Summary: Before Marlas there was a bright season in which Laurent made his first friend, helped Auguste woo a bride, created his code of honor and developed an arsenal of court skills that would see him through the snake pit of his future.'Auguste swooped in and hugged him anyway as Laurent knew he would. He liked to pretend he disliked it saying, “Stop, you need to bathe,” but Auguste’s warm, strong embrace transferred something so affectionate and life giving he relaxed his body for a few heartbeats. After, he felt full and at ease in a way he secretly craved. He often felt adrift. Noticed by too many critical or appraising eyes but never truly seen, except by Auguste.'





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One  
Part One

Laurent had escaped his tutors for the day, his lessons in languages, history, and statecraft easily completed. He understood what was required of him and his natural curiosity pleased his tutors. Then there was his true motivation, time to himself in the vast palace library. It was a fine day on the verge of spring, and although Auguste had teased him for staying indoors, he was happily surrounded by his favorite companions, the ancient philosophers, all in book form but alive in his mind. He liked to imagine them with him, debating fine points of ethics or the nature of man.

Auguste had invited him to accompany him on a hunt, but the thought of killing a stag or rather watching a stag be killed, was unappealing. Auguste’s guard would all have been vying for his attention. Laurent thought of all the times he’s watched their ridiculous behavior and decided it would fail to amuse him today. 

Only he was Auguste’s brother he reassured himself. If he often felt on the outside of Auguste and his friends’ world, he always had those private times when Auguste would show up in his chambers to talk about the day or seek him out to bring him something to eat. Sometimes he became so interested in what he was reading he’d forget to attend meals. Auguste could be counted on to miss him, fetching him his favorite foods, and never sending a servant. On occasion he purposefully missed a meal just to have Auguste find him and say, “You must keep up your strength for reading Philomeses.” 

He and Auguste shared a devotion to philosophy and as Laurent despised the writings of that particular Akielion philosopher, Auguste would annoyingly cite some obscure quote by Philomeses as they debated and send Laurent deep into his works to find a flaw in his logic. 

As if conjured by his thoughts, Auguste strode into the library, looking like he’d been dragged through several thorn bushes. His nose was a bit sunburned and his face had a sheen of exertion. Laurent viewed his mud encrusted boots and riding leathers with dismay. He had a care for the precious books strewn around him. Gathering them out of the way and placing them behind him, he protected them with his body, giving a terse command, “Keep back Auguste, you are a disgrace.” 

Auguste swooped in and hugged him anyway as Laurent knew he would. He liked to pretend he disliked it saying, “Stop, you need to bathe,” but Auguste’s warm, strong embrace transferred something so affectionate and life giving he relaxed his body for a few heartbeats. After, he felt full and at ease in a way he secretly craved. He often felt adrift. Noticed by too many critical or appraising eyes but never truly seen, except by Auguste. 

Auguste sprawled across from him and said, “I brought down the stag, but not before it led us through the gorse and brambles in the valley. It turned at the end to charge but Spawn reared and struck out his hooves like we were in battle.” Laurent observed Auguste’s usual pride in his mount Spawn, the noblest of horses and a legendary war stallion. “The stag hesitated and it was then I had my chance and threw,” he finished.

Laurent imagined the brave stag facing its pursuers, run to the ground but ready to fight for his life. He felt an odd affinity with the prey always. He knew his face gave it away when Auguste said comfortingly, “It was quick, a straight piercing of the heart.” 

“Well done Auguste,” Laurent said politely. He really didn’t understand this thrill of hunting animals for sport. Of course, now that he was riding so well and could keep up with anyone, rather surprising some of the Prince’s Guard, he did participate on occasion. 

“I had to take advantage of our last day of freedom,” Auguste said with an aggrieved tone.

Yes,” replied Laurent. “We receive the Patran ambassador.” Neither of them looked forward to state visits. 

“The feasts, the entertainments, the polite talk, all while Father is negotiating an alliance with Patras.” Auguste groaned dramatically. “Let us just take the field against Akielos and be done with it.” His face became fierce as if he were already planning the assault. 

As Auguste spoke so easily of battle, Laurent had that familiar clenching dread in his stomach. Of course, Auguste always triumphed but Laurent knew from his history that not many heroes lived past their youth. He liked to be scrupulously honest with himself as his favorite philosopher Lorian directed an honorable man of character to always be. 

When he was quiet too long, Auguste finished dwelling on his thoughts of war with Akielos and returned his attention to him. His clear blue eyes were concerned and Laurent quickly said, “Yes, it will be diverting. All that intrigue while we dance the gavotte.” 

Laurent so enjoyed sarcasm. He often tried it out on Auguste, seeking to develop his wit. Laurent made a study of the double meanings so many of the court spoke in and was pleased he had become quite adept at understanding and even joining in. People were always startled when he made a wry observation that openly revealed their motives and then went back to his meal as if he had no awareness of what he had said. It was very amusing. 

Auguste was not fooled. “You needn’t worry about me Laurent. You know I am invincible.” This said with confidence but a wry note. 

“Of course. I never doubt you,” Laurent said calmly, strapping down his anxiety. 

“Come along, Philomeses, you aren’t missing dinner again,” Auguste teased, arising and shedding mud and burrs about the floor. 

Laurent didn’t bother to object to Auguste’s teasing, not when they were alone. It was another way he knew he was special to him and that Auguste and he were brothers who had their jokes only they understood. 

“It is not even bell six. I suggest you visit the baths. I will see you in the hall,” he answered.

Auguste assented, knowing that when Laurent gave his word it was as true as his ascription to Lorian’s code for men of honor. Laurent recovered the book he had been reading and settled in for another good hour of absorption in the Chronicles of Kings. 

 

Chapter One  
Part Two

Laurent slipped away from the royal table and joined Auguste and his guard where they were gathered drinking wine and discussing the usual topics, war, hunting and tonight, the Patran entourage. He took his place at Auguste’s right. It was a seat always kept open for him and Auguste acknowledged him with an affectionate clasp of his shoulder and a grin that made him feel inordinately welcome and pleased .

He was quiet and observant, as he had no opinion regarding a particular slave’s plump breasts or the fine legs of the Patran captain Theo had bedded last night. He pretended to be bored, but he was somewhat interested in learning about bed sport. He told himself it was only that it was important to have as much information about everything for his arsenal. He liked to keep up. 

Much of the talk centered on Laria, the daughter of the Patran ambassador. Apparently she had unusual hair like ripe apricots, eyes like the warm sea and the body of a goddess. He translated that to unfortunate red hair and undoubtedly the plump breasts men favored. Not that any of them had experienced women outside of the marriage bed or a brothel. Although he understood there were ways of enjoying a woman without consummation that were quite satisfying and illicitly practiced by some of the racier men and women of the court. 

Laurent glanced over at the lady in discussion. She was sitting decorously in an alcove with courtiers gathered about her, vying for her attention. Veretian nobles thronged about, some overly close and familiar while their Pets sulked to be ignored. He could see she was beautiful, but she looked wretched to his perceptive eye. 

“I think I will introduce myself,” he said with an assurance. Auguste and his guard looked between themselves. Then, Jerard, terribly droll Jerad, said, “Good hunting, young Laurent.” What is with these endless hunting allusions Laurent thought. So overdone. 

“I am not hunting. I am making the lady’s acquaintance,” he said briskly. Satisfied he had quelled Jerard, he stood and gave a nod to he group. Auguste eyed him with amusement and his raised eye brows conveyed surprise. Laurent liked to keep others, even Auguste, guessing a bit.

As he approached the alcove and the lady in question, the courtiers turned to focus their attention on him. One languid youth with soft dark curls smiled invitingly, in a way he had come to learn was attraction to his appearance. This had been happening more often as he grew into height and his voice deepened. He had begun fielding compliments about his golden hair, graceful limbs and so on. It was rather unsettling. People had always commented on his looks but this was something different and had to do with a certain type of admiration. One that made him itch with irritation.

When it was apparent he approached with intent, many made their courtesies saying, “Prince” and “You honor us” and other niceties. He spoke confidently, “I require a moment with Lady Laria.” One Pet made an impertinent laugh which he quelled with a disdainful look he’d been perfecting and they all retreated. Sometimes it was useful to be a Prince. 

“You look like you might appreciate a respite and I have come to provide it. I do not think your suitors will approach while a Prince of Vere holds your attention.” Laurent explained, striking an easy pose and giving Laria a close inspection. The hair was not unfortunate and her eyes were an unusual turquoise. Yes, she would put most Pets to shame. 

Laria smiled cautiously, “That is kind of you.” 

Laurent drawled, “Let us dispense with all that.” He wondered if she had a head for more than polite conversation. 

Laria considered him with those lauded sea green eyes as she weighed his words and intentions. Then she said daringly, “As long as you haven’t come to seduce me I don’t care what we do.” 

Laurent gave her his full attention. She had done surprisingly well. "I haven't," he confirmed.

“No courting, no seducing and please, no compliments,” she said and he answered “Agreed,” with a matching tone of relief. 

Laurent glanced over casually to Auguste’s table. Auguste gave him a conspiratorial smile and then transferred his gaze to Laria. It was open, frank and admiring but also held that way he had of capturing others into his world just through a look.

“My brother finds you lovely.” 

Laria sighed and said, “We agreed no wooing. Not even on behalf of a brother.”

“It is an observation you have heard far too many times,” he noted.

“As have you?” she asked. Laurent replied with a weary air, “Your hair is like spun gold, your eyes like sapphires. Now your turn.”

Laria giggled adorably, then caught herself with a hand over her mouth and eyes wide in shock over her unladylike laughter. Laurent realized she was not that much older than he was. She put on a puckish face and answered, “My lord, have you ever seen such eyes! They are the color of the Akielon sea! That skin of the finest ivory!”

Laurent relaxed a little inside. His instincts told him Laria and he had a rare understanding of each other. 

“How did you come to be here?” he asked. It was unusual for a daughter to accompany her father during negotiations. 

“My sister died of fever this winter. My mother is grieving deeply, as we all are. My father thought a time away would be healing.” 

“Is it?” Laurent asked. “I don’t think anything would help if I lost my brother.” 

“No, it only makes me miss her more. She was my best friend.”

Laurent had that sense of familiarity again. He didn’t have any friends. People his age were not allowed at court. He had only Auguste. His father the King was fond of him but not much in his daily life. His mother had died during childbirth when he was three. He held an impression of warmth and laughter, of bright hair and a soft voice. Only that. Mother was something he came to know he did not have as Auguste recounted his memories of her. 

“Fathers often have ideas about what is best for us, but I am of the mind that they might ask us for our opinion more often,” he said. Laria, who had been attempting to look brave, showed her true emotions for a moment. The sudden grief in her face exposed her as vulnerable and young. Her court polish dropped but she recovered and quipped, “Our opinions? Are we to have any?” Matching his drawl.

Laurent debated as to how to engage her further. He decided to bring up his favorite subject.  
“We have a wonderful library. If you like that sort of thing. It is private and no one will bother you there.” 

“Yes,” said Laria with obvious delight. “The two things I love the best, books and privacy. Oh, and dancing but that is three.” He felt a flare of pure enjoyment and forgot to be sanguine, smiling at her small jest. 

“I will be there in the afternoon if you would like to be shown the arranging system we use. We have books in every language,” he said, revealing his own enthusiasm. 

“I will look forward to meeting you there.” Laurent was pleased to see she seemed almost happy.  
He heard the musicians beginning the prelude to the dancing and glanced around. He’d forgotten for a bit that Auguste and the Guard had been observing them or that the court was likely agog about the thirteen-year-old Prince talking intimately with a woman. Scandalous. 

“The dancing will ensue momentarily and as that is not a pursuit I enjoy as you do, I will unfortunately have to leave you to your many admirers.” He was pleased that he sounded very sophisticated. 

Laria smiled with genuine pleasure and said, “Thank you for your company. I will be able to tolerate the rest of the evening now.” 

Laurent left her with a warm sensation in his chest. He wondered if this was what it was like to make a friend. It was somehow outside of his grasp, this affinity for someone on just one meeting. 

He returned to his seat next to Auguste, who gave him a goblet of watered wine with a congratulary expression. 

“Well?” said Jerard, whose feline Pet looked daggers at him as he sat forward, brushing off his twining arms. 

“I will advise you. Refrain from fawning compliments regarding her beauty. She will find it tiresome. ”

His tone intimated Jerard already was. 

“What woman does not like to be told of her beauty?” Jerard scoffed. 

Laurent gave him a pitying look. “Try to keep up.” 

Jerard gave an angry snort and Auguste intervened with an exasperated voice. “Enough about the ambassador’s daughter. Unless any of us are looking for a wife no one will be bedding her. There are other diversions open to us.” 

Auguste did not keep a Pet, but his friends were known to share theirs and he and his close friend Mathis were intimate in ways Laurent did not like to think overlong on. 

He made his excuses and left, a satisfying sense of having held his own with men almost twice his age and perhaps even to have impressed Auguste. He knew Auguste was proud of him always, yet he was not unaware of the large gap in their experience. He wanted more than anything to become a man Auguste admired, and not just because he was his brother. Tonight he felt assured he had accomplished his goal.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Part One

As Laurent and Auguste left the woods on their morning ride and entered into open vistas they gave their horses their heads and galloped through the expansive fields. Their pace was steady and just swift enough to give their mounts good exercise and themselves a sense of freedom. Every so often Auguste would catch his eye and share the moment. They took turns taking the lead in direction. 

Ahead was a party of three, racing along the verge of the valley. Laurent’s eyes caught a bright flag of copper hair and identified Laria, with two armed guards. Auguste’s eyes gleamed as he caught Laurent’s. Without words they moved to intersect the party ahead. Seeing them approaching, Laria and her guards stopped their mounts and awaited them. 

They came upon them at a slowed pace, giving themselves opportunity to be identified. At fifty paces they slowed to a walk. Laria was dressed in Patran style dark brown riding leathers and boots, snugly fitting her curvaceous form. Her bright hair was captured in a loose braid that had become partially undone.

Before Laurent could speak, Auguste said in a low husky voice, “Greetings Lady. It is a beautiful morning for a ride.” His tone intimated more than the morning was beautiful. 

“Princes, good morrow.” She said simply. Her eyes caught Laurent’s with a sweet brief smile of remembrance, but then she returned her gaze to Auguste, who had not dropped his intense stare. She looked both fascinated and wary. 

Auguste inquired about the bloodlines of Laria’s exotic golden mare. She cautiously engaged Auguste’s gambit. Laurent wondered how many times she had found herself in such a conversation to find it turned into a flirtation. He regarded Auguste’s veneer of politesse while his voice and manner projected masculine interest. 

In every way Auguste’s attraction to Laria was apparent in the line of his body, the force of his eyes and a way of radiating a magnetism all his own. He leaned forward, hands resting on the pommel of his saddle, his powerful body at ease. The morning sun lit his long wavy hair pushed back from his face by the wind. His eyes had a warm teasing light even as he spoke casually, smiling easily as he drew Laria out and included Laurent in the circle of camaraderie he did so effortlessly. Even Laria’s guard were included with a final suggestion regarding an alternate route back as they took their leave and cantered off.

Laurent was accustomed to Auguste’s natural way of drawing others to him but today he compared himself and decided he was wanting. Where Auguste was gregarious, Laurent knew himself to be reserved. Auguste was warm, he was cool. 

“What are you thinking about?” Auguste asked, as they walked their mounts for a while.   
Laurent said simply, “How different we are.” 

Auguste considered him for a piercing moment, and then said, “In what particular way?” 

“People always like you. I am prickly, cold and hard to like.” Laurent admitted. He felt, well he was not sure what he felt. Irritated. Yes, he had felt on the outside of their meeting with Laria and he was annoyed with himself that he had said little and been unsure how to join in. 

“I have to put others at ease, otherwise they would all be scrabbling and fawning. I just cut through all that. It makes things less tiresome. It may seem they like me but they don’t know me. Not like you do. It is difficult to be a Prince. Lonely. You are guarded, not cold or prickly. As you should be.” Auguste said firmly. 

“You are lonely too Auguste?” Laurent was struck by the thought that Auguste, so beloved by all, was lonely. 

“Mathis is a true friend. The others, do not know me as he does, as you do. I am always the Prince, the heir. Others see me as they want me to be. Even Father.” Auguste’s expression was neutral but his tone was hard.

Laurent nodded his understanding. The people of the court were slippery, sly and always jockeying for an advantage. He had learned to stay aloof. He hadn’t realized Auguste’s affability was his own mask. 

“Last night when I talked with Laria, she understood. She is harried for her beauty and never seen for who she is,” Laurent confided. “Please don’t toy with her Auguste. She needs a friend as I do, not a suitor.” This was bold of him to say. 

Auguste’s face lit with surprise. “ I would not toy with her Laurent.”

“You looked at her in that way you have.” Laurent corrected. 

Auguste didn’t protest. “I am a man who likes women, even if I am in most ways denied them. But I understand you. She is no jaded court beauty or Pet to be played with. She is innocent.”

“Yes,” said Laurent surprised to be protective of Laria and relieved Auguste understood. 

“I can still admire her though?” Auguste teased. 

“Within reason Auguste, and for more than her beauty.” Laurent replied seriously. He did not say that her sister and best friend had died in the winter. It was too close to his fears regarding Auguste and he decided this was a confidence given to him that he would keep close. 

 

 

 

“


End file.
